


bang, bang

by bookishgypsy



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishgypsy/pseuds/bookishgypsy
Summary: When a morning fight leads Fallon to La Mirage, their day takes a turn for the worse.
Relationships: Fallon Carrington/Liam Ridley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 76





	1. that awful sound

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Bruna (@falloncridley) for giving me a few ideas for this story, which would not exist unless I had received said ideas.

“We need to talk about last night.”

His voice echoes in their kitchen as soon she enters the vast, brightly lit space. The sun is shining far too much for her liking this morning, radiant and glowing, her fingers rubbing at her temple to try to calm the headache that won’t seem to quit, a reminder of all the poor decisions she made last night haunting her every time the pressure in her head got _just_ a little worse.

Fallon wanders herself to the fresh pot of coffee he’d already brewed, pouring herself a mug of the (still) steaming hot liquid. She mixes in the minuscule amount of sugar she takes and splashes a bit of cream in the ceramic cup, stirring it with one of the wooden stirrers set near the machine. She wanders back over to the kitchen island, sitting herself at one of the bar stools.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I would argue that getting called in the middle of the night by your mother because you showed up at her place absolutely hammered after not answering my calls for hours _is_ something to talk about.”

“I don’t want to do this right now,” she says, pushing the white mug up to her lips to take the first sip of her morning coffee, instant relief when the steaming liquid coats her throat. “I have a killer headache, so _please_ , Liam, not now.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” he says, leaning forward against the opposite side of their kitchen island, watching her with rapt attention. “Cause this conversation is no longer up for debate anymore.”

She pushes herself up from her seat, ignoring his words, turning herself in the direction of the stairs with every intent of crawling back into their bed for the rest of the day. “I’m _not_ talking about this right now.”

She hears him follow behind her, before his hand captures her wrist lightly, _always_ lightly, before he spins her around so she’s facing him again; she doesn’t like the tears that are threatening to fall from her eyes already. She especially doesn’t like the look that he’s giving her when she catches his eyes; it’s full of disappointment and sadness and god, she can see just how _terrified_ he was for her, how that fear is hiding behind his eyes even if he’s trying his dammed hardest not to show it. 

“No one could _find you_ , Fallon,” he squeezes the words between his teeth. “You weren’t answering calls or texts from _anyone_ all night _._ ”

“My phone was dead!”

She pushes his hand off her and she doesn’t really even comprehend _why_ she does it, or why she’s getting so defensive with him over the whole thing. Especially when he was _right_ , he had every right to be angry with her right now. She _did_ mess up, she just wasn’t ready to admit that to him yet; or even to herself.

“Fallon, I don’t really care if your phone died. That isn’t the _point._ ” His words come out in such frustration and she _hates_ it. All she’s ever wanted was for him to be happy, for him to be proud of her. And right now, he’s anything _but_. “This reaching for the bottle coping mechanism you’ve gotten used to has _got_ to stop.”

“Liam.” She hates how her words come out in a small whisper, almost a cry; unable to think of anything else to fight back with at his words. 

“I wouldn’t have been as worried if I didn’t just _know_ that the second you slammed our front door last night,” he says. “That you were going to find yourself at bar drinking away your feelings and trying to numb it all.”

“It’s not that serious, Liam.”

“I’m terrified that one day I’m going to pick up that phone and hear news that’s much worse than the news I got last night, Fallon,” he clenches his teeth when he says it, his eyes are watering and she swears she catches a tear escape out of the corner of his eye. “I’m afraid one day I’m going to find out you’re not coming home to me anymore.”

“That’t stupid, Liam,” she scoffs, but she turns her head away from him nonetheless so he can’t see the pain that she just knows is etching its way on to her face. “I was just out having a good time with Sam.”

“Having a good time with Sam because you were pissed off at me yesterday.” He reiterates that fact again, leaving no indication he was leaving this topic alone anytime soon. “That’s the only reason you reached for the bottle.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Well, then, by all means,” he opens his hands out to her, giving her the floor to make her case. “Tell me why you went out and got yourself drunk last night and ended up on your mother’s porch at 4am.”

“I’m not doing this right now,” she turns her body around and starts her trek up their staircase. “I’m done with this conversation!”

* * *

She storms in to La Mirage angrily, high heels clicking against the tiled floor with every heavy footstep she takes forward into the lobby. She spots Sam behind the bar and makes her way towards him, sitting down at one of the empty stools in front of him in a huff.

He eyes her up and down, his hands placed up against the bar top before finally asking, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Liam and I got into a fight,” she sighs loudly, the stress of her morning finally catching up to her, despite her best efforts to forget the whole last two days entirely. 

“Oh, god. Again?” Sam’s eyes roll far back as soon as the words leave her lips. “What are you two fighting about now? What color to paint the kitchen?”

Her eyes widen a bit at his questions, taken aback slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you two fight over a lot of stupid things,” he says, picking up a bottle of clear liquor and pouring a shot out into the glass in front of him before he slides it off to the guest a few seats down from her. “And it’s not even really _fights._ It’s just that you’re too stubborn to talk things out before storming off in a huff when you don’t get your way.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m offended,” she says, holding up one finger on her left hand, her shiny peach colored diamond shining from the lights above her, tugging at her heart just slightly when she thinks of him. “And, two, no, it’s not over paint colors. It’s actually a lot worse this time.”

“Okay, so what happened then?”

She sighs, “Liam thinks I depend on alcohol too much.”

He waits for her to continue, but when she doesn’t she hears, “Okay, and…”

Her shoulders sink at his words. “Don’t tell me you agree with him.”

“He’s not exactly… _wrong_ with his worries, Fallon.”

Her defensive side comes out straight away, as it so usually does: “Why are you taking his side?”

“I’m not taking his side, I’m just saying the only reason you asked to go out for drinks yesterday was because Liam was pissing you off and you wanted to forget about it.”

And that’s exactly when it clicks in her head that a certain someone had already talked to Sam about the events that transpired earlier that morning before she’d even arrived at the hotel.

“He called you,” she says. 

“He may have given me a heads up that you’d show up asking for a drink.”

“Well?” She snaps her fingers twice in a row, waiting for him to pick up an empty glass for her. “Shot of whiskey would be great right about now.”

“I’m not condoning your behavior any longer,” he says handing her a tall glass of water. “You can have water.”

“You’re supposed to be my friend, Sam!” She looks at the class of clear liquid that was set in front of her, unamused with Sam’s actions and Liam’s actions, for that matter, for calling Sam in the first place. “I could just go to another bar, you know! Why won’t you just let me—”

She jumps back when she hears a gun shoot off in the short distance behind her six times in a row, forcing her to turn around and see several large men (she assumes) wearing all black clothing with black face masks covering everywhere against their faces but their eyes. She holds her hands over her ears to block out the loud gunshots ringing in her ears. 

She hops off her stool and runs behind the bar to stand by Sam, stopping in her tracks when she hears, “Everybody stay where you are!”

She freezes when she leader of the pack walks forward shouting at everyone, gun pointing off so carelessly in all directions, he takes no discretion to who he points it at and she worries he’ll actually pull the trigger at anyone of them there. 

“This is a robbery. Stay where you are and cooperate with us and it will all be over with in five minutes.”

All of the guys wander around the room, each of them appearing to scout out the area among the dozens of them they’ve currently trapped in the La Mirage lobby. She watches on eagerly when she notices Sams’ employee Hailee behind the check-in desk, leaning her hand underneath the table to push the panic button Sam had hidden under there for these exact circumstances. He’d told her when he installed it that he most likely wouldn’t need it, but on the off chance he would, he was putting it in regardless.

She silently thanks him when she sees the young blondes thumb slip under the desk, thinking the police were two seconds away from behind notified of the situation. 

“Excuse me,” the lead mans’ gun points off in Hailee’s direction. “Are you aiming to be employee of the month or something?”

Her hands slip out, holding up both her hands so he could see them in front of her.

“Everyone on my staff, do as they say,” Sam says into the open space, filled with tension and terror. “Just….do what they tell you.”

* * *

Liam was finding it hard focusing on just about anything. 

He tried to work on his latest book, tried to put some words to paper, but the only thing on his mind was Fallon and if she was off numbing the pain and memories of their morning argument, like she always seemed to do when something wasn’t exactly in line with how she wanted it to go. 

He’d only managed to write a couple hundred words when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, everything inside him hoping it was Fallon, ready to talk things out rationally so they could both figure out this problem _together,_ like the always did. He pulls it out slowly only to see _Blake Carrington_ ’s name across his screen, who was the _last_ person he expected to be calling him now, or ever if he was being honest. They’d barely even spoken in the time he’d been with Fallon, and even then, Fallon was barely on speaking terms with her own father right now.

Which only led him to one conclusion - Blake Carrington needed something. 

Or Fallon was drunk again and ended up stuck on Carrington Manor today for a change. 

He slides the call icon to the right on his screen, but before he has the chance to say _hello,_ he hears his voice on the receiving end, “Liam.”

“Blake,” he says, irritation already building in his tone. “Look, what do you want? I don’t really have time to help you with whatever trouble you’ve got yourself…”

“Would you shut up and listen to me for a minute? It’s Fallon.”

“Fallon?” That stops him in his tracks and sends his mind flying in a million different direction. Because he immediately can tell he’s on edge. Fallon’s not drunk and stuck at the manor - somethings _wrong._ “What about Fallon?”

“Look, Liam,” the older man starts slowly, which only puts him more on edge. “I need you to promise me you’re not going to to do anything stupid when I tell you.”

“You’re scaring me,” he says, shifting the phone from his left hand to his right. “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s a hostage situation going on at Sam’s hotel,” Blake says. 

He swears he feels his heart drop out of his chest, because he just _knows_ that’s exactly where Fallon darted off to. “What?”

“I don’t know all the details yet, but some guys in black masks with guns stormed the lobby and won’t let anyone in or out.”

He’s afraid for the answer he might get from the question he doesn’t know if he should ask, but he asks anyways, “Is she okay? She’s okay, right?”

He doesn’t like the way Blake pauses after his question, unsure, uncertainty floating in the silence between them. “I’m not sure yet. Just…just meet me at the hotel.”

He slams his laptop shut, reaching for his keys on the counter and their early morning starting to replay in his head over and over and over again. The way they exchanged words, they way things didn’t end well when she took off angrily this morning, leaving him behind to worry about what she’d do next to herself. 

It all seemed so irrational now. 

“You can’t die.” He slides his key into the ignition, revving the engine up before he starts to reverse the black SUV out of the driveway. “Please don’t die.”

* * *

She watches at Sam, as looks on in horror as the windows and doors to his hotel are spray painted with dark black paint, before the crew of guys move on to covering up the security cameras next, blocking out any vision to authorities who were trying to get in to see the security footage.

“Look, you can take anything you want to,” Sam speaks up on the right of her, his voice quiet and completely on edge, his tone laced with all kinds of anxieties that she’s feeling all the same. 

“I intend to, starting with phones, tablets and laptops,” the lead man says as he pulls out a folded brown sack from pocket; small, but probably enough to get what he needed from everyone in this lobby, she figures. 

She hates how when she walked in to La Mirage that morning, the only thing she was thinking about was _forgetting_ her fight with Liam from their morning earlier today, and now the only thing she could think of _was_ Liam and how she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if that was how they left things. Because if that really was their last conversation together and she didn’t make it out of this thing alive…

“So, what are we supposed to call you? We don’t even know your name.”

It’s Sam who speaks up besides her, putting on his best brave face as far as she can tell. He keeps his eyes zoned in on the man picking up cell phones around the room, each guest of Sam’s dropping their smart phones in the brown bag before sinking back in fear against themselves. 

“A great question. You, young man, can call me One, this here,” he points to the two men in the black uniform besides him. “Is two and three. You seem like a smart man, surely you can figure the rest out.”

When he turns his back on her side of the room, she uses it as her chance to zip her purse open quietly and sneak her phone into her bra; out of site and out of mind from where they’d probably even think to look for a cellular device. But before she knows it, he’s in front of her and Sam, Sam dropping his iPhone and work tablet into the sack that’s held out in front of him. 

But then One turns to her as he holds the bag out for her. “Well?”

“I don’t have one, it’s up in my room,” she says quietly.” “I left it up in my room.”

He doesn’t question it, thankfully, and when he slips by them and moves to the next group of people besides them, she sinks quietly to the floor and slips the phone out of her bra discreetly, dialing the number she’d become all too familiar with over the last few years. 

* * *

He takes his last few struts up to the Carringtons’ who are already stood a far distance from the hotel, slightly out of breath from the distance he had to run. The surrounding streets were already blocked off, so he parked where he could before starting to run towards the hotel. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“Liam,” Blake says when he notices his presence next to him. “No one knows, okay?”

“Well, can’t they figure it out faster?” Liam runs his hand through his hair, an anxious habit, frustrated and terrified all at the same time. “My fiancèe is in there!”

“They know that, Liam,” Blake spins in his direction; he can see the anger and panic in the older mans face, but he’s doing a decent job of keep it together so far, he’s not erupting in total rage at authority figures yet, which Liam counts as a success. “There’s probably a a few dozen people in there right now. It’s not just Fallon, okay?”

“Well, they should work faster."

It’s Cristal’s hand comes to settle up on his upper arm in a reassuring gesture while she says, “The authorities are doing what they can, okay?”

“Well,” he says breathing deeply, all of the worst outcomes scanning through his head on repeat. “Can’t they cut in to the CCTV he’s got in there?”

“They’ve _tried,_ Liam,” Blake says through gritted teeth. “Whoever is in there spray-painted the cameras black. We can’t see anything.”

He paces back and forth a few moments, watching police meet in small bundles, trying to figure out what move to make next, when he sees her name on the screen of his iPhone, taking him by complete surprise. He panics slightly when he sees it, because it couldn’t be…could it? He figures he must be imagining it, there’s no way those guys were letting her make a phone call….

He slides to accept the call regardless. 

“Fal?”

Her voice meets his immediately, panic and distress floating all throughout her tone. “Liam.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hums to her, hoping he could calm down some of the terror she’s feeling. “Talk to me, babe. What’s going on?”

“There’s a bunch of guys in black masks with guns,” her voice is so soft, he’s not even sure if he could classify it as a whisper. “I’m so scared, Liam.”

“Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths,” his voice is so calm when he hears it echo back at him; he’s not sure how when he’s trying to talk his own self off a ledge. But for her, he remembers: be calm for _her._ “I’m right here, okay?”

“I’m sorry, Liam,” her words stutter out, still as soft as when she first spoke. “I…I overreacted this morning and I’m sorry. You’re right, I do have a problem and I promise I’m going to get better.”

“I’m sorry, too, babe,” he smiles with his words, because despite this all he’s just happy to hear her voice; he doesn’t even care about this morning anymore, that was long forgotten the minute he hung up his call with Blake. “I’m sorry I raise my voice. I’m sorry if I didn’t handle it correctly. I’m just so worried about you. I’ve seen my family go down that path and I don’t want that for you.”

“I know, Liam.” He doesn’t like the edge in her voice, the tension, the absolute terror he can just sense without even looking at her. “I know.”

“I love you, so much, Fallon,” he mutters quietly. “You know that right?” 

“Yeah,” she replies, softer in tone than before, which he didn’t think was even possible. 

“I’m right out in the front and I’m gonna get you out of there, okay?”

“Please hurry.”

“Hey!” Liam hears the grunted, muffled voice, a short distance behind her, but when it speaks up again, it’s closer and instantly put him right back on edge. “I thought you told me you didn’t have a phone!”

“I love you, Liam.”

And then there’s silence, their connection cut off, those three small beeps indicating she’d ended the call leaving him standing absolutely still on the sidewalk. He knows he’ll forever be haunted by the sound of her voice in her last four words, the way that it sounded so final, so eerily like a goodbye. He runs his hand through his hair, panic running deep inside him, a tightness clutching at his chest as her words echoed in his mind over and over and over again. 

And that’s when he hears the gunshot go off, the vibration echoing in the streets and the loud bang ringing loudly in his ears.


	2. hit the ground

“Fallon!” 

Liam shoots himself forward, with every intent of storming the barricade the police had set up between them and La Mirage, anger and anxiety running through his veins the second he heard the gunshot blare off just the short distance in front of him, wanting to do everything in his power to rush to Fallon’s side by any means necessary. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he mutters on repeat, head resting in his hands as he paces back and forth in a small square with the two officers who’d just stopped him watching him closely. “This can’t be happening. Can someone d _o_ something?! Get her out of there!”

“We’re trying, sir.” He barely hears the words escape out of the officers mouth, the only thing he can hear is the _bang, bang, bang_ over and over and over again in his head, haunting his every waking second as he tries to grasp the fact that this is his current reality. “We’re doing everything we can.”

“My fiancèe was just _shot_ , if you didn’t notice by the sounds of the gunshot ringing through your ears just now.” It’s aggressive and demanding, two words people have never used to describe him before in his life. Two words he’d never even used to describe _himself_ before, but this is _Fallon_ and the only thing he can think about is _her_ and to make sure she’s okay. He’d do anything in his power to keep her safe. “Try a little damn harder!”

“Don’t you fools think for once second you’ll still have jobs after this mess if my daughter doesn’t walk out of that building _alive,_ ” Blake speaks up on the side of him; he’d almost forgot he was there, suddenly his surroundings feeling so far off in the distance with the situation that’s unfolding in front of him.

“Mr. Carrington,” the red headed officer says calmly. “Whoever is in there, they could be bluffing. She could be fine. It could be a distraction, it could be a trap. We don’t know.” 

“I don’t really want to sit and wonder if he’s bluffing or not when one of the two outcomes is my daughter bleeding to death from a gunshot wound!”

“Okay, okay,” he stammers quickly, holding up his hands in defeat. “Look, here comes the police commissioner now. He’s in charge around here. I’m just going by what he says.”

“Paul,” Blake rushes up to the tall man, Liam treading right behind the eldest Carrington in tow. “Please tell me you’re doing something to get my daughter out of there.”

“Please, Paul,” Liam’s voice escapes him in a small cry, desperate and pleading. He feels lost, stuck in a nightmare that he’s sure he’s going to wake up from at anytime now. 

“Mr. Carrington,” Carl nods at Blake, eyes wandering in Liam’s direction, who’s pacing back and forth in place, his hands gripping at his head that’s racing with the wildest of thoughts he can’t even control. 

“This is Liam,” Blake replies curtly. “Fallon’s fiancè.”

He nods his head in Liam’s direction once to acknowledge the introduction, who barely even notices the gesture, before he continues, “Mr. Carrington, we _are_ dealing with quite the severe situation here. I can’t just send my men in there when there’s at least a dozen assailants in there, armed and ready to shoot anyone they can see in their sights, or anyone that steps in their way.”

“I know, Paul. I understand. But, _please_ ,” Blake begs, something he swears he’s never seen of Fallon’s father before, the desperation and uncertainty in his tone; Blake Carrington was always so sure of his self, always in control of the situation; this was proving to be the opposite. “That’s my daughter in there.”

“I can’t put my officers in that much danger without knowing more information first and I _cannot_ put the hostages in there in further danger than they’re already in.”

“Well, then let me go in.”

It’s Liam who speaks, surprising himself and Blake all the same from the expression that’s painted against his face. He’s not even sure where his words come from, he could barely form a single coherent thought in his head in the given moment, but if it meant going in there and being by Fallon’s side and holding her hand, he was going to do it. Mr. Carringtons’ eyes are wide open in from his statement, not expecting such a bold and brash suggestion from the usually quiet man, his head already shaking back and forth at the thought.

Paul shakes his head back and forth muttering, “I can’t let that happen.”

“Liam, you’re doing her no good if you go in there and get yourself hurt, too,” Blake says in one of the calmest voices he’s ever heard him speak; a plea almost, to make sure he stayed here and safe so he was there for her when this hell was over. 

“What are they even after?” The frustration of just having to sit idle while not knowing what’s going on inside that lobby, while not knowing what’s happening to Fallon and if she’s even _alive_ was eating him alive. And, _damn_ , he can’t even believe he’s _thinking_ those thoughts right now. “What do they want out of all of this?”

“We don’t yet for sure,” Paul responds. “But, we have reason to believe something may have been hidden in that hotel for them to go in and take.”

Blake’s eyes narrows in on those words. “What makes you say that?”

“The fact that the hotel safe was unlocked only four minutes after these guys stormed the building,” Paul replies.

“But…what?” Liam asks quietly from his spot off to the side. “What are they after?”

“We don’t know yet,” Paul sighs, before continuing. “What I’m going do next is to call inside there and try to reason with whoever is wreaking all this havoc and see if we can reach a deal.”

“They’re not gonna reason with you,” Liam interjects, shaking his head. 

“We doubt we’ll get far, but this is something, Mr. Carrington, Liam, that we can do without risking lives.”

Liam watches on in rapt attention, as the police commissioner pulls out his phone, throwing it on the speaker option and start dialing the hotel number.

* * *

“Oh my god! Fallon!” Sam crouches down besides the brunette gripping at her upper arm; she winces at the touch, pain radiating down her arm at even the small gesture he makes. “You just _shot_ her!”

“Well, I suppose I did,” One just shrugs as he looks down at her, Sam pulling her pink Alexander McQueen blazer off her shoulder carefully as she tries to hold back her tears. “And now that you all know I’m serious here, does anyone else want to hand me their phones they’ve hidden away?”

The room is basked in absolute silence, complete stillness as she hears not even the sound of a needle dropping to the floor. The gun in his left hand swings from each person in the room, no discrimination against who he pointed it at and who he’d take his next aim at. 

“No? Good.”

Sam’s attention floats right back to her when he takes a few steps away from their view, immediately only focused on her and the injury she attained. “Are you okay?”

“My arm,” she flinches, holding her left against her body to ease the pressure as best she can; she moves it subtly to find the most comfortably position for it, the sensation in her arm unlike anything she’s ever felt before, but Sam doesn’t let her keep it there long when he pulls it towards him.

“I know, I know.” He holds her hand, forcing her to straighten her arm which only forces the pressure and pain to increase. She squints her eyes together, wishing it’d ease any of the pain, but it doesn’t. “I’m gonna grab the first-aid kit, okay? We need to stop the bleeding.”

But, when Sam stands up to reach for the kit he keeps behind the bar, Two’s gun is pointed in his direction, finger already on the trigger, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“We need to stop the bleeding,” Sam’s voice is calm when he speaks, she isn’t sure how he says his words without wavering. “Or else you’re gonna have a casualty on your hand and then things will be much worse for you all.”

“Fine,” he says after a few moments of silent debating, gun dropping to his side once more. “I’ll allow it.”

Sam disappears for a few moments behind the bar, returning only a few moments later with the white kit and dropping right back to Fallon’s side. She hears the latches open and sees him pull the blue tourniquet out from the bottom.

“Liam,” she cries, hating the sound that escapes her. She feels the band tighten against her upper arm, Sam’s efforts to curb the bleeding; she’s sure thankful he had decided to take those few CPR and First-Aid classes upon the opening of his hotel, even if she did mock him for it at first. But then her mind is right back to Liam, who just told her he was out front, probably in full panic mode, doing anything he could do to get to her side. 

“I know, I know. You want Liam,” Sam sighs, pushing a towel against her arm. She grimaces at the small ammonite of pressure he applies. “But you’re gonna have to deal with me. Second best?”

“Second? More like fourth. Maybe fifth.”

“Haven’t lost your sarcasm, I see.”

“Never.” He pulls the rag from her arm, and it’s then when she finally glances at the wound and when she sees the blood soaking through the white towel, she starts to panic. It hadn’t really hit her until that moment that, yes, she’d been shot. “Oh my god, is that my blood? Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“Look at me,” Sam’s eyes meet hers amongst all the chaos. “Look at me. Just breathe, okay?”

She tries to find the comfort and love and reassurance she needs in Sam’s pupils, but it’s not the loving gazing she’s used to being on the receiving end of with Liam; it makes her wish it was him here with her calming all her anxieties and holding her close. He’d knew exactly what to say to her in a time like this, he always did; he always would. 

“Okay.”

“We’re gonna get you through this,” Sam says softly, reaching for a second towel and applying more pressure. “It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

Sam’s calming and reassuring words are cut short when the hotel lobby’s phone starts ringing throughout the quiet room. No one moves, there isn’t a sound to be heard besides the classic ringtone echoing off the tile walls.

“Well, would someone care to get that?”

Hailee behind the counter, shyly reaches forward towards the black phone, pulling the device up to her ears and mumbling a quick _hello._

“Umm,” she holds phone out to One, and he looks at her with blank eyes, unamused that she hasn’t yet told him what she’s obviously trying to say. “It’s for you.”

“Really?” He moves forward to take the phone from the blonde. “Well, I am quite the popular guy, aren’t I? Alright. Keep quiet or you end up like that one over there.”

* * *

“I’ve heard you requested my presence.” The voice that meets his ears instantly fills him with a rage he can’t explain; he doesn’t know what this man looks like but the sound of his voice feels like nails on a chalkboard to him. "Can I ask who I’m speaking to?”

“This is Commissioner Jones, we have the building surrounded.” Paul holds his fingers up, urging the listening parties to stay quiet. “It’s time to give this gig up.”

“Surrounding the building won’t help you, my dear.”

Liam only listens on as he was instructed, but it’s Blake then who leans forward and rips the small phone out of the Commissioner’s hands, spinning around before Paul can take the phone back from him. 

“Let my daughter out of there, you son of bitch!”

“And who might you be?”

“This is Blake Carrington and if you’ve so much as laid a finger on my daughter, I swear…”

“Carrington, you say?” Liam stands by holding on to every word he’s about to hear, waiting for the voice to speak again. “Well, I just shot your daughter and she’s now bleeding to death as we speak.”

The line goes dead and it only leaves Liam there standing speechless as he starts to pace around in a small circle, listening in on Blake as he lays into the commissioner to do more, to get her out of there. But their words become blurry and distant as he mind spirals out of control, even more so than it had been already. He can’t even fathom what Fallon’s dealing with; he’d already had a gut feeling that she’d been shot, but to hear it out of this man’s mouth…to hear that she’s _bleeding to death._ He doesn’t want to think about it, he doesn’t want to even think what she looks like, to see the blood pooling around her while they try to contain the bleeding from behind those closed doors where there’s no medical equipment she’s probably requiring. 

The stress and overwhelming feeling of not being able to help her, the visual of her in there laying on the ground helpless with no help; it all hits him then, his knees buckling as he falls to the sidewalk, falling against the hard cement as he desperately tries to let the tears fall but they just won’t form. 

He feels a hand against his shoulder a moment later, “Liam.”

Blake’s looking down at him in probably the most gentle gaze he’s ever received from the man; he was always so stern and cold and focused, but he was just as frazzled and worried as he was in this given moment. “I just want to help her and I _can’t_. I just feel so helpless."

“We’re gonna get her out of there, okay?” Blake’s hand squeezes against his shoulder briefly before he pulls it away and lets his own arm rest against his side. His gentle actions already have taken Liam by surprise, but he goes a step further when he sits himself down on the curb of the sidewalk beside him. “She’s gonna be just fine.”

“Fallon is everything to me.”

“I know she is,” he says quietly. “You’re everything to her, too, if it’s any help.”

“To think this morning we’d argued and…I won’t be able to live with myself if she doesn’t make it out of this and that was the last time we saw each other, Blake.”

“It won’t be,” Blake pats him gently on his back twice before he stands up and wanders his way back to Commissioner Jones and all the officers just a short distance from him, planning their next move to get the hostages out of the building. 

He closes his eyes tightly, a few tears finding their way down his cheek before he quickly wipes them away with his sleeve; he stands up after a moment, making his way to join Blake with the rest of the local police department. 

* * *

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” she states, still holding a towel against her injured arm. “Tired, sore and uncomfortable, but I’m okay.”

“To think,” Sam dwells, “Liam’s already got a ton of patience to be with you but, taking care of you recovering from a gunshot wound? That boy’s a saint.”

“Shut up,” she laughs at his words along with him, but it changes how she’s feeling in a split second. 

All of a sudden she’s seeing glimpses of Liam; of their fight that morning and at the ugly words they’d exchanged, of him still waking up sleepily in their bed in the morning, of him telling her he loved her every night before she closed her eyes. Before she even can realize it, there’s salty little tears falling out of the corner of her eye and down the sides of her face.

“No, no, no. That was suppose to make you _laugh!_ Not make you cry!”

“I _know_.” She uses her good arm to wipe the pesky droplets of her cheeks. “It’s just that he was _right._ ”

“What are we talking about?”

“I drink too much, I know I do. I reach for the bottle when things get too difficult for me to process or I just don’t want to deal with something and I don’t really ever face the problem. Just like my mom, and just like my dad.” Her voice is so sad and vulnerable, something she’s usually only used to coming out when it’s _Liam,_ but she didn’t have him to lean on right now. She looks at him with wide eyes when she finally says, “I don’t want to be like my parents, Sam.”

“No, you’re not like your parents, Fallon,” Sam says, shaking his head at her. “You realize there’s a problem, that’s something they never did. And, you have Liam who’s gonna stick by your side through everything.”

“Finally, you fools,” it’s One’s voice that causes them to turn their heads towards the sound. “You found it.”

One’s holding a silver briefcase in his hands, it’s no larger or small than any other briefcase she’s seen before; she wonders what’s so special about it.

She doesn’t have to wonder long, because Sam asks upfront, “What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” He spins the briefcase towards the pair, shiny and silver amongst the bright hotel lights. “It’s a bomb.”

* * *

Liam stays quiet and off to the side for the most part, listening into the officials surrounding him as they talk plans and action, but really, he’s lost in his own thoughts as his eyes stay focused on the hotel building just a short distance in front of him, blocked off by a bunch of yellow barricades keeping the public out of harms way. He’s kind of thankful for his dull mindset, because it’s for that reason he notices the front door to the building slip open slowly and only slightly. 

“Hey, hey,” he mutters, alerting the commissioner with a slight push to his arm, turning his attention to the object being dropped outside before the door closes fully again, for no one to enter. “Look.”

The red headed officer from earlier takes the initiative to move behind the yellow barriers and pick up the object and return back to the designated area. He’s holding what appears to be a pink object in his hand, and when he makes it closer Liam’s heart drops again at the sign of his finacèe’s Alexander McQueen pink blazer she’d stormed out of the house in earlier, torn into a small piece and wrapped around something else. 

He catches the spot of red blood against it as it moves closer to them, heart shattered at the meaning behind the action this…this man is trying to send to them. 

“That’s blood. Oh my god, that’s Fallon’s blood.” The terror inside him haunts his every second moving forward, because Fallon was _really_ in there with a gunshot wound bleeding and he couldn’t even do anything to _help_ her. But then the even worse reality of it all hits him faster than the speed of lightening. “Oh my god, what if she’s dead?.”

The officer unfolds the fabric to find a small tiny clock, winding down in numbers after ever seconds that passes. Liam watches on as the numbers tick down from 4:28 to 4:27, 4:26, 4:25; it takes him a moment to figure out what it means until Commissioner Jones speaks up from the left of him. 

“It’s a bomb. He’s got a bomb,” he says. Liam’s eyes go wide in panic as his eyes wander right back to the hotel, watching on helplessly as the realization hits him full on. “Alright, we can’t waste any more time. We’re going in.” 

Liam can’t focus on any of the words he’s hearing after that, everything seemingly becoming blurry in his vision, a slight dizziness hitting him far too quickly. He can hear the authorities ordering commands, planning quickly to storm the building, a small mention of tear gas before they enter, but it’s such a blur as they move swiftly and in such a calm and controlled manor while he stands off to his own little corner, barely able to hold himself together. 

“No one fires a shot without my authority, understand? I don’t need any dead civilians on my watch.”

He suddenly feels like he’s not living in his own reality anymore, or any reality. This was a dream…or a movie…and he was going to wake up from this nightmare any second. His future wife wasn’t taken hostage in his friends hotel, she wasn’t shot and she definitely wasn’t possibly _dead_. This was just an awful nightmare and he was going to wake up any second. 

Except that never comes, he can only stand frozen in his tracks as he watched on to the scene unfolding before him. The officers begin moving forward to La Mirage, breaking in windows and hitting the lobby with tear gas as a cloud of smoke fills the room. 

It’s only seconds before he starts seeing people flee the scene, looking for their loved ones in the small crowd gathered outside; his fears of her not even being alive rushing through him like a wave at each person that’s not Fallon. 

But then, he catches a glimpse of her exiting the building next to Sam; her arm’s wrapped around in a towel, blood leaking through; an obvious marking of the wound from the gun she’d been shot with which tears at his insides in a different way at the pain she must be feeling, but he feels an immediate rush of relief when he sees her in front of him, alive, _breathing,_ that it’s enough for him to try to forget about that small detail for a moment. There’s a tightness in his chest that lets loose at the sight of her, spending the last several hours struggling for air when the mere sight of her allows him to get the first full breath of air he’’d been gasping for all afternoon.

She scans the crowd, chaotic and busy and full of loved ones reuniting, looking for him and only him, when he decides to call out for her. 

“Fallon!”

He sees her head turn towards the sound of his voice, a sense of relief showing in her face when she catches his eyes. She just looks at him a moment and it’s enough for him to know she’s close to tears, the emotions of everything getting to her but, _god,_ he just wants to thank all his lucky stars that she’s _alive._

She starts making her way towards him, running as best she could in her strappy heels in his direction; his arms are wide open for her when he meets her in the middle and she happily throws her arms around him and buries her face into the side of his neck, her tiny hands clutching against his jacket, trying her hardest to be as close to his body as she possible can. He can feel the warm traces of her tears against his skin as she struggles to catch her breath. 

“Shh, shh, I’m here,” he says calmly, tears running down his own face, relieved to have her in his arms again. Safe. Alive. Away from the madness he can’t even fathom that she’d just endured. He feels her fingers try to grip a little tighter to his coat, but the effort feels weak; he doesn’t plan on letting her go if that’s what she was afraid of, and he assumes it was. “I’m right here.”

“Liam,” she mutters, barely able to get the words out in her low voice and seemingly sounding absolutely exhausted, he assumes from the adrenaline coming down in her system. After such a high, he’d no doubt she’d be drained of all her energy. It only prompts him to hold her tighter. 

She pulls back only slightly to get a good look at him, her eyes watery and sad and so very distraught. He pulls one hand from her waist to run his thumb across her cheek when he notices her eyes are dull and they start to shutter shut right before him. 

It frightens him immediately. 

“Fallon?”

But she doesn’t even have time to respond to him before her head lols against his shoulder as she loses consciousness against in his arms. 

* * *

She feels her eyes start to flutter open, met with bright white lights, forcing her eyes to shut themselves closed immediately at the iridescent lighting. There’s something about the stark white lights in a hospital that doesn’t make you want to open your eyes, the way they shine forcibly from above. They’re anything but welcoming.

“Hey, sleepy.” 

Liam. His voice brings her an instant calm, washing over her like a gentle wave in the ocean. Somehow with him she feels safe, like nothing could harm her if he was with her. It still took her by surprise that a person could make her feel that way, but she’s forever thankful it’s him she feels this way with. 

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Close, but not quite,” he says; she feels his hand tucked against hers, tangling their fingers together tightly as she finally lets her eyes open and meet his. “You were shot in the arm though, so I’m going to have to ask you never pull that stunt again.”

She laughs at that, a friendly feeling in her lungs after the day of panic and fears running through her veins. “I’ll do my best, Liam.”

“Do you have _any_ idea how worried you’d had me?”

Fallon feels her eyes start to pool with tears at his words, the events of her whole day pushing to the forefront of her mind, everything she’d just lived through replaying in fast motion in her head. Liam grips tighter at her hand and it only causes her to pull their joined fingers up to her face so she can feel their tangled hands against her cheek. 

“Fallon, he told me you were bleeding to death.”

“I wasn’t,” she tries her best to give him a smile, but it’s weak and she feels it and she knows he does, too; emotions overcoming her that she can’t seem to control. But, there’s more on her mind than the wound to her arm, or being held at gunpoint for hours. Everything in her seems to float back to their morning argument that could have been avoided, could have prevented this whole thing from happening to her in the first place. “I’m sorry, Liam.”

“For what?”

“You were right this morning,” she says in barely a whisper, always the challenge to admit she was wrong in a situation. She feels the few tears fall out of the corner of her eyes, but, for some reason, it’s a little easier with him; he never judged her for anything and he never would. “I depend too much on alcohol to numb my feelings when I don’t feel like dealing with something.”

“Hey, hey,” he uses his free hand to cup the opposite side of her face; so gentle and loving and the look he gives her is full of such adoration she can hardly believe she was so lucky to find him. “I’m not even worried about that. It’s over and done with. I’m just happy that you’re _alive.”_

“I know,” she sighs. “But, it wouldn’t have even happened to me in the first place if we didn’t have that fight this morning.”

“Now’s not the time to blame yourself, babe.” His thumb rubs small circles against her thumb, calming and soothing. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not though.” Her head shakes left to right, head brushing against their tangled hands with her movements. “I’m sorry and I’m going to try to get better.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he mutters to her. “I’m sorry if it felt like I was to hard on you, I was just worried about you. I don’t want to see you go down the same path as our parents have, Fal. That’s all.”

She meets the smile he flashes in her direction, leaning herself up as best she could to meet his lips in the middle. Soft, sweet and gentle; both of them thankful to be in each others presence again after the excruciating and painful day they’d both be haunted by for years to come.

“So, anyways, back to you,” he says when he pulls away, making sure to keep their fingers entangled together between them. “By some miracle, the bullet barely grazed your arm and left virtually no permanent damage, aside from some scaring, maybe.”

“Well, I am a Carrington.”

“Not for much longer.”

“So, if the damage to me is not all that severe….” she trails off with her words, his eyebrows raising up at her in anticipation for what she was about to say. “Is there a reason I’m still sitting in this hospital bed?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. I’m so glad you asked,” he says, smiling flirtatiously in her direction. She can already tell she’s not going to like the answer she’s about to get. “You fainted from blood loss. You were given a blood transfusion because the loss of blood was so severe. So, yes, I’d say that’s a reason to keep you overnight.”

“I say it’s not.”

“Well, when you get your medical license we’ll talk but for the time being you’ll be spending the night.”

“Liam.” Fallon throws her head back against her pillow in frustration as he just sits there smirking at her in amusement. “Get me out of here. Please?”

“Ask me again tomorrow and we’ll see.”

“Fine,” she mutters. She scoots over in her small bed a little, looking at him with her wide eyes. “Lay down with me?”

“Of course.” 

He kicks his shoes off before sliding into the spot beside her, Fallon immediately curling into his side and making herself comfortable. She’s relieved to have his arms around her again, and in much better circumstances. She feels herself get sleepy with arm wrapped around her side, eyes starting to flutter shut against him. But, she’s not able to drift asleep before she hears him speak up again.

“You know, just for the record, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm never writing an action based drama fic again.

**Author's Note:**

> The end.
> 
> Just kidding.


End file.
